Page 14 of Secrets Beneath a Riviera Sky
‘How are things with your maman?’ Mel asked. ‘You have told her your plans now?’
Zazz shook her head. ‘I’ve told them about visiting Oscar but not my plans for this summer yet. I seriously think they will both freak out when I tell them. Maybe even disown me. I don’t know.’
‘I’ve told you there’s always a bed for you at my place,’ Mel said. ‘It’s not a problem, I promise.’
‘Thank you. What are you up to today?’
‘I’ve got to check out a villa in Juan-les-Pins, make sure it’s ready for the guests I’m picking up from the airport this afternoon. In between I have to do some paperwork, do some Instagram promo and organise some dinner reservations for later in the week.’ Mel smiled. ‘It’s all good. What about you?’
‘I thought I’d pick up some tourist brochures, see if I could do a bit more in-depth research on places that looked promising and write a “Changing my lifestyle” piece for the blog. I’ve been teasing my followers now for weeks. Kickstart my new life like I’d planned.’ Zazz glanced at her watch. ‘I promised to pick up some breakfast croissants so I’d better start back.’
‘Come on then, we’ll run back together,’ Mel said. ‘Fancy joining me for a pizza this evening? Seven o’clock by the harbour?’
‘I’ll be there.’
* * *
Sleep had evaded Francine for most of the night. She finally dropped off at around four o’clock but was awake again at six when she heard Zazz creeping downstairs and letting herself out for her run. Francine sighed. Her daughter was so… prickly was the only word she could think of to describe her at the moment. Something was clearly going on in her life that she didn’t want to talk about.
Francine pushed the duvet back and got up. Little point in staying in bed. She pulled on her jeans and a shirt, while Zazz was out she’d have a wander around the house. Banish some of the ghosts whilst she was on her own if she could. She’d start at the top and make her way down.
Climbing the spiral staircase into the attic she remembered the last time she’d climbed them thirty-six years ago…
‘The attic has been newly converted into a room just for you,’ Oscar had said, smiling as he’d led the way up. An early present for her eighteenth birthday still a couple of months away. ‘Somewhere you and your friends can hang out, play your pop music. No smoking though,’ and he’d wagged his finger at her. The teenager in her had been thrilled. Until she’d learnt the conditions attached to the room. It wasn’t to be used just for her summer visits. No. She had to come and live in Le Suquet full time.
Her first reaction had been to burst out with ‘But I can’t leave Maman on her own.’
Oscar’s face had darkened. ‘Of course you can. You will be an adult soon. You come and live with me, go to college here in France and want for nothing. It’s your birthright. That’s the deal anyway. Until you decide, you can stay in your old room. Your choice.’ And he’d slammed the door shut before almost pushing her onto the new spiral staircase, forcing her to descend in front of him.
That incident had not only set the tone for the last week of her holiday but had shattered the tenuous relationship that had struggled to exist between her and Oscar.
Theo, when she tentatively asked his advice as to what she should do, had regarded her sadly. ‘I’mdésoléyour father has put you in this difficult position. Whatever you decide is either going to hurt you, your mother or infuriate Oscar. But the truth is, you need to do what is best for you. This could turn out to be one of the major decisions of your life. And you need to be certain you are making the right one for you. I’m sure you will make the right choice. Please don’t let him bully you.’
Francine avoided Oscar as much as she could for the next few days whilst she tried to work out what she should do. The pros and cons were written out and cross-checked time and time again. Sitting on the new bed up in the attic room she dreamt of the life she could lead if she took Oscar up on his offer. The thought of living on the Riviera was exciting and cool. Another part of her that loved living in Dartmouth couldn’t help but acknowledge how different – even better? – her life could be in France. Her holidays in the South of France had given her a certain cache too amongst her friends. Moving here permanently would certainly raise that a notch. She longed to talk to her mum about it but Agnes was the one person she couldn’t turn to for advice. There was only three days of her holiday left when Oscar unexpectedly appeared as she was making toast and coffee for her breakfast and impatiently demanded her answer.
‘Decided yet?’
Francine shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to do. Living here, going to college, sounds a lovely idea and I’m seriously tempted but I keep thinking about Mum being on her own.’ Her voice trailed away as Oscar looked at her, exasperated, before moving up close and staring intently at her. She shrank back but he leant in even closer.
‘I’ll help you decide then, shall I? I’ve got to go to San Remo for a business meeting, won’t be back until tomorrow mid-day. If you are still here when I get back I shall take that as the sign you are staying to enjoy the life I am offering you. And I shall telephone your mother to tell her you’re not returning to her. If you decide not to stay, I want you out of this house before I return. You can go back to your sad little life and your pathetic mother in England and regret the decision for the rest of your life. Got it?’ As he spat out the last two words his hand shot out and swiftly gave her a blow on both cheeks.
It was the words ‘sad little life and your pathetic mother’ that blazed fire into Francine’s brain more than her stinging cheeks. She didn’t have a sad little life and Agnes was anything but pathetic. As she stared at Oscar she suddenly saw him for what he was. A man who presented a cultivated image to the world, at odds to the man he was behind closed doors. A man who dressed immaculately – this morning he was wearing a fashionable lightweight beige safari suit and carrying a leather briefcase – but strip away the expensive clothes and gold Cartier watch, he was nothing but a mean-spirited thug of a man. A man who thought he could coerce her to live her life on his terms.
‘Got it,’ she said, nodding as she stared him down, ignoring the pain of her throbbing cheeks. ‘If that’s the way you treated my maman no wonder she left you. I’ll leave this morning.’
Oscar glared at her before turning and storming out of the kitchen. Francine screamed after him.
‘And my maman is not pathetic. God knows what she ever saw in you. You’re nothing compared to her and I HATE you. You are a despicable man.’
A door being slammed shut had been her only reply. Appetite gone, she’d binned the toast and threw the coffee down the sink. A quick shower before she packed her things, a cold flannel on her cheeks to calm them down, and she dragged her suitcase out onto the landing. Slowly she went up the spiral staircase to take one last look at the room that could have been hers only to find it locked.
Theo, when she arrived on his doorstep ten minutes later, took one look at her tear-stained face and pulled her in to give her a tight hug. The next day he changed their tickets and they drove to the airport. Her childhood was over.
16
Francine looked around the present-day attic room and wondered what Oscar had done with all the white modern Swedish furniture he’d chosen to try and bribe her with all those years ago. Zazz’s belongings were spread out over the few good quality practical pieces that were now in the room. Francine took in the laptop, the notebooks and files, the camera and its tripod. The curtains on the alcove wardrobe were open and Zazz’s clothes were hung crammed together on the rail, underwear and a hoody were on the shelves alongside.
Smiling to herself, Francine went back downstairs. Zazz clearly took after her. Edwin always teased her about the size of her suitcase whenever they went away. She always overpacked, worried that she’d need another top, an extra cardigan or even a strapless bra to wear under the off-the-shoulder blouse that she’d thrown into the suitcase at the last moment. The art of minimalistic packing was clearly not in their family genes.
